Public ‘Vibe Writing’ : Aura Farming and Ego Stroking

[Braze]

​

Braze had settled along the rise of one of Dantooine’s grassy hills, where the tall grasses leaned soft into a rolling sea beneath the night sky. Night had spread across the world like a bowl of black velvet strewn with diamonds.

The pale-haired half Echani lay back in the cradle of the slope, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting loose across his chest. The temperatures were dropping, and a brisk chill was in the air. His jade-green gaze was turned upward, watching the slow roll of clouds overhead lazily make their path along the skyscape.

 

[Sevrin]

The old world still kept its dead buried beneath root and soil, beneath wind-worn stone and the long memory of places the Jedi had once touched. There were stories here still, half-swallowed by time; ruins picked clean, vaults broken open, and yet… Never empty. Enough lingered in the bones of the land to draw those willing to walk the dark seeking what scraps remained.

Sevrin prowled through the brush, one hand loose at his side while the other brushed near the stolen hilt he carried.

He had been following the faint residue of old Force-work, that might lead to a forgotten chamber, a hidden cache… or …perhaps another holocron left to gather dust in the dark.

Then something else touched his senses…

Sevrin slowed at once, head turning slightly as his attention shifted from the cold pull of relic-hunting toward something brighter in the Force. When he found the source of it across the slope ahead a smirk etched it’s self on to his visage.

There.

Braze lay along the rise of the hill as if the night had opened itself just to hold him there, pale hair catching moonlight, body at ease in the cradle of the grass.

Sevrin stood still a moment and watched the other for a small time.

The search for Holocrons, and other buried things… they could wait. This was far more interesting.

He gathered himself inward, masking the brush of his presence until it drew tight and silent, then began to move. He circled instead, tracing the shape of the hill with measured steps, letting the grasses hide the line of his approach while he closed the distance a little at a time. The night covered him well and the wind did the rest.

By the time Sevrin reached the rise, he was near enough for his shadow to spill over the pale-haired figure below.

The stolen saber came free into his hand as a sharp hiss split the hush as the blade sprang to life, its crimson light casting hard color across the dark while he angled its humming edge near Braze’s throat, close enough to threaten death.

Looking down at him, Sevrin smiled.
“Caught you.”

 

[Braze]

​

"Have you~?" Braze asked, one snowy white brow quirking as he looked up. He did not appear troubled by the red saber shoved in his face, so close he could feel the plasma radiating from the tip angled at his throat.

"Mm… and what exactly do you think you've won?" His expression barely shifted, though an irksome, almost knowing smugness touched the corners of his mouth.

"I had noticed something prowling the hill a while ago… I was curious whether you'd actually come closer."
He lifted a hand to the very tip of the blade, employing Tutaminis as he sought to press it gently away from his throat. "If you wanted my attention, you could have asked."

 

[Sevrin]

Sevrin’s expression soured at the sight of the smaller male guiding his blade aside with nothing more than a touch. How could he lay a hand against hot plasma like that? It was not an ability Sevrin recognized, and that unfamiliarity pulled him back a sudden step, drawing the blade up with him. The saber’s red glow dragged sharp across his features as he stared at Braze’s hand for a little too long, suspicion and sharpened curiosity settling where smug satisfaction had been moments before.

His jaw tightened. He did not like being surprised, least of all not when he had come in expecting control of the scene to rest neatly in his grasp. The stolen hilt remained firm in his hand, though his posture had changed now; less leisurely, more guarded, as though Braze had ceased being a pretty interruption and become something worth measuring properly.

“Well…” he said at last, voice lower now and edged with a different sort of interest. “That was new.”

 

[Braze]

​

Braze drew his knees toward his chest suddenly and hauled his feet back sharply over himself, letting the hillside catch the motion. He rolled through it in one quick sweep along the line of one shoulder, then came up again on his own two feet, balanced and ready, with bare hands drawn into a guard as he faced the taller, armed opponent.

“Oh? Was that not how you expected this to go? You seemed far more confident a moment ago. If you mean to test me, at least commit to it… come on, then; you’ve got the blade.”

 

[Sevrin]

Sevrin’s expression tightened, annoyance cutting across it before he buried it beneath a colder kind of focus. He had seen the bait for what it was… the smug little challenge, the lifted chin, the contemptuous smirk, the invitation to rush in foolishly and prove Braze right. He did not give in to the Jedi’s taunts, nor to the urge to retaliate blindly. Still, it got under his skin all the same. He liked control; all the more when it sat neatly in his grasp. Braze had spoiled that with one strange touch and far too much confidence for a lone, stargazing runt to have.

The stolen hilt shifted in his hand as he settled properly now, no longer lounging in the image of threat, but stepping into something more deliberate. Cautious now, though not deterred. If Braze was more dangerous than he had first appeared, then Sevrin would have to learn how.

Suddenly he pressed forward with sharper, murderous intent, testing Braze and forcing movement, meaning to see whether that pretty little trick would hold beneath further pressure.

 

[Braze]

​

Braze remained serene despite the sharp and sudden advance. The smaller warrior moved with the hill, giving only the space he chose to give, boots gliding through the tall grass as the slope broke upward, forcing Sevrin to follow him through angles rather than straight pursuit. In doing so, he conveniently claimed the high ground for himself. Pale hair caught silver where the moonlight fell.

The look on his face had changed now. The earlier smugness had all but vanished, yet something brighter, more genuine, had settled in its place: enjoyment. Sevrin’s focus had stripped the easy swagger from the encounter at last and, oddly, Braze seemed almost pleased by that. He slipped past the pressure and turned with it, watching in return and studying the shape of the taller man’s intent as carefully as Sevrin meant to study him.

 

[Sevrin]

Sevrin caught sight of the shift as it happened. The almost offensive hint of enjoyment that had settled across Braze's face, now that the exchange had turned honest, irked him. His own expression hardened into something fiercer as he continued to pursue the annoying little runt with a series of sharper attacks.

He paused when he saw Braze take the higher ground. Rather than chase the Jedi farther uphill, he adjusted, angling off with a cleaner line of approach, red blade humming low as he cut across the slope to spoil the easier use of the terrain.

Fire licked through the drier grass where the saber passed; the ground beneath its path softened and ran molten pouring down the hill as firelight flooded the hilltop in a bright blaze.

 

[Braze]

​

Braze stumbled back half a step, his eyes widening as sudden light tore across the hillside. He threw his arms up to shield his face from the inferno that surged to life in the night wind, heat washing over him in a violent rush. His footing shifted at once into a small Ataru-style backward leap, carrying him just clear of the furious line of Sevrin's aggressive advance.

He landed near the wood line that crowned the crest of the slope, boots striking earth as firelight spilled wild and bright across the hilltop. Behind him, dark trunks stood in uneven ranks; before him, the flames climbed higher, feeding on dry grass and racing with the wind…

The look on Braze's face changed then. The earlier poise gave way to troubled worry, as he watched the hillside come alive with the wrong kind of motion. Wildlife broke from the grass in violent bursts, small bodies scattering through the glow, while several birds tore suddenly into the sky, their wings beating hard against the firelit hillscape.


"Was your pride worth setting the whole hillside ablaze?"

 

[Sevrin]

Sevrin fell silent, refusing to answer Braze's accusation.

The hillside hissed and crackled around them, orange light rolling across the grass in restless waves while sparks climbed into the dark. Smoke dragged low where the wind worried at it, and through it all Sevrin watched the smaller man's face with sharpened attention. He had seen it now… that glance toward the fleeing creatures, that brief shift in focus, that care that reached beyond the fight itself.

Ah… so that was where the seam lay.

His expression settled into calm, a cold look sharpening in his ice-blue eyes. The earlier irritation seemed to vanish, drawn inward and brought neatly under control. The stolen, scrap-worn saber Darth Dacian had given him remained alive in his hand, its crimson light staining the smoke as he began to circle again with predatory steps, letting the heat and fire ride at Braze's edge like another blade brought to bear.

His gaze shifted once toward the shapes scattering through the grass, then returned to Braze's face.

"How inconvenient for you, Jedi."

He moved a little nearer along the slope, narrowing the ground between them and angling his path to make the fire one more thing Braze could not ignore. His attention stayed fixed, watchful now in a way that felt less like vanity and more like dissection.

"I was wondering what might break your focus," Sevrin murmured. "Now I know."

The saber hummed softly as he turned it in his grip, a slow, restrained threat held on a short leash. A faint smirk edged across his visage, though there was little warmth in it.

"You care too broadly. That must be exhausting."

Then he moved at last. In a sudden, violent burst, Sevrin turned and lashed the crimson blade toward the path of a fleeing fabool, a cruel stroke meant to threaten the frightened creature from the air and drag Braze's attention after it.

 

[Dirk]

Location: Dantooine
Tags: Braze | Sevrin

Dirk had only seen such fire and destruction once before. When the sky’s above let loose an avalanche of roaring light and energy they had set the savannah ablaze. Now it was from foreign intruders who brought devastation to his home.

Often the Dantari teen sought as much fire as he could within reason. He was wise enough to know the danger that it posed when recklessly abused, and here the newcomers had the ability to summon radiant fire seemingly at will.

Arriving at the scene he wasn’t quite sure what was going on. His eyes were watery from the irritating smoke and it dried his mouth and throat. There was the young ghost person and another taller darker man who was targeting a helpless Fabool. It angered the young dantari, as he knew just how vulnerable fabools could be. Clenching his teeth Dirk rushed the antagonizer, gripping his club tightly in both hands. “Rrrraagh!” Dirk cried out as his body moved with more kinetic energy than it should’ve been capable of. With a committed upwards swing he brought his club to the saber in an attempt to catch and move it off course.

That didn’t happen however, Dirk’s sturdy and trusty club was merely sliced in half as if it were nothing. He first felt how light his weapon suddenly felt in both hands as he swung up only to be holding the handle of his weapon. ​

 

[Sevrin]

Dirk

Sevrin was startled only for a moment, not having expected the interloper to appear so suddenly, let alone interfere. Before either could properly react, a hand had already reached out, fingers slipping into the dark, matted hair and closing into a hard fistful. He did not mind taking the advantage of a hostage, especially one that had all but handed itself over to him.

He lowered the lightsaber to Dirk’s neck and lifted a proud, almost smug look toward Braze.

“Now then… what have we here?”

He let the words hang for a moment, his grip still twisted in Dirk’s hair as he savored the look he meant to draw from Braze. The saber remained poised at the young man’s throat, near enough to threaten, though not yet moving; Sevrin’s mouth turned to a smirk, pleased by the turn of things.

A low sound of amusement slipped from him, soft and ugly.

“He came to you quickly enough… that says quite a lot, doesn’t it?”

 

[Leos]

Dantooine
Tags: Dirk , Sevrin

Epo-1, YT-1760 small transport
​

Leos had been sleeping in the tall grass when suddenly fire overtook the landscape. He was quick to grab his vibrosword and scramble off to see the scene unfolding.

Braze standing off against some edgy looking guy. Red lightsaber blade held to the neck of that caveman kid. He knew he couldn't just stand around and watch whatever this was. A Jedi needed to be brave. Leos approached from behind. The Themian rushed forward with a silent step, leaping up and slashing downwards with his blade to strike the man in the back of the head while he was distracted.

 

[Dirk]

Location: Dantooine
Tags: Braze | Sevrin | Leos

Dirk muttered something unintelligible, cursing his long hair for getting caught up in the man’s first. He gritted his teeth in frustration and pain over having his hair tugged on. His eyes widened with fear as the red blade came up to his neck. So much energy that is close to him. It was like a bolt of lightning kept still at a manageable length. It was awesome and terrifying. But at least the small fabool was spared

He couldn’t tell what the man was saying either. Speaking the same alien language as the others. The same kind of phonetics he recognized too somehow, in a past life he didn’t understand. Dirk sensed another approaching, but couldn’t move himself to see who or what it was…​

 

[Braze]

Dirk Leos
Braze jolted at the sight of the young local boy hurling himself at the would-be Sith. Before he could make the choice to move, the smaller figure was already seized and dragged into the man's vicious grasp. Then Leos threw himself into the fray as well, rushing the attacker with that same reckless courage, without a shred of hesitation.

That ended any room for carelessness. Braze had to be careful now… the boys were far too close to the monster for any recklessness on his part.

He drew in a slow breath, and as he did, everything inside him went still. The rest of the world seemed to fall and fade away around him, sound and motion narrowing down into a single sharp line of intent…

The Force answered.

Wind tore hard across the hillside, driving through the tall grass as the flames surged and reared higher, ash and sparks ripped up into the air and sent spinning into small streams of ember-light. For one brief moment the blaze seemed to grow wilder yet still… then all at once it began to fail. Air thinned around it. The hungry flames choked, broke apart, and sank down into glowing patches of cinder scattered across the slope. Braze could not free the younglings with the land itself still burning around them. Through the Force he drew the fire's heat toward himself, cooling the hillside while his command of the wind pressed the last of the blaze down into smoldering ruin.

Then his attention shifted to the malicious man once more.

His hand lifted toward the man, and with it his focus narrowed, keen as a blade. He reached for the breath within the Sith's chest and began to pull, stripping away what oxygen he could seize. Wind circled Braze in restless coils, sending snowy white hair streaming back from his face while his jade-green gaze locked onto the man with cold intent.

"Release them… or suffocate."

 

[Sevrin]

Leos Dirk

Sevrin caught the child's charge at the edge of his awareness, his form shifting just enough to spoil a clean hit. Even so, Leos' vibrosword punched through the side of his garb, carving a jagged slash past his ribs and leaving hot pain burning in its wake.

His ice-blue gaze cut toward Leos with immediate malice, and Sevrin answered him in kind with brutal speed. His sword arm snapped back, the blade drawn away from Dirk's face as he drove an elbow hard toward the attacking boy's face. At the same time, one foot slid behind Leos' planted step and dragged forward. He meant to use the youngling's own momentum as leverage, turning that forward drive against him in a harsh sweep meant to send him crashing flat onto his back. A snarling cry ripped from Sevrin at the pain in his side, and he stamped a boot down across the boy's chest, trying to hold him there by force.

The Jedi was being protected by not one, but two younglings…

Two furious, fearless boys throwing themselves at him with the same reckless heat he might once have carried himself.

For the briefest instant, Sevrin saw it too clearly amidst the dark hair and tawny tan skin… youth that burned hot and fiery, where fear was an afterthought. The sight struck somewhere deeper than he liked, stirring the shape of a boy he had once been before years and bitterness had carved him into something harder. It was not softness that touched him, nor mercy… only a jagged, unwelcome recognition that made his temper twist with an obtrusive edge of bitter self-loathing sorrow.

Before he could spit another threat toward the pale-haired Jedi, the air was ripped from his lungs.

Sevrin's next breath never came. The vile, vitriolic words he meant to hurl died unborn in his throat. His chest hitched as his throat worked uselessly around nothing. Ice-blue eyes flared wide as he turned toward the source of it, trying again to drag air into starving lungs and finding nothing. Fury began to buckle around the edges, and something far less controlled started to show through as panic clawed its way in.

His fingers twitched in Dirk's hair, the grip tightening once in raw reflex before faltering. The red blade trembled in his hand, no longer held with that same cruel certainty, while his planted stance broke by a fraction as one knee threatened to soften. A violent jolt ran through his chest, something between a cough and a gag, but no true breath followed it. His throat worked around nothing. Then at last the smallest shred of air scraped its way in, and with it came a harsh, broken sound that tore out of him ragged and wrong.

That was the opening Dirk could feel against the hand tangled within his hair. Not mercy, nor any simple desire to release him, but the cruel man's weakness giving in.

Leos, pinned beneath that stamping boot, was given the barest shift in pressure as Sevrin's balance wavered and his weight failed to settle as firmly as intended. At the same time, Braze stepped in through the dying heat and swirling ash, calm and severe, the wind still coiling about him as his will held fast around the man's stolen breath.

Sevrin's hand spasmed as the stolen lightsaber slipped from his grasp.

It fell from nerveless fingers, its crimson glow cutting a sharp line through the smoky dark as it tumbled down toward the scorched hillside below.